


Movie Night

by DNash (MonkeyBard)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-28
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:58:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8067271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonkeyBard/pseuds/DNash
Summary: Stand-alone story in the Log Rhythms universe. (01/20/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> No, you're not seeing double and you didn't miss a challenge. This is just one of those times when inspiration strikes two people at the same time.* If you read "Log 2:10," you'll recognize the beginning of this fic. However, this puppy stands all on its own.  
>   
> This is a PWP for Malcolm's birthday. Takes place during "Log 2:10", between "Vanishing Point" and "Precious Cargo."  
>   
> Beta: Many thanks to the wonderful JennyB!

* * *

"Did you go through that entire box of tissues?" asked Malcolm, chuckling.

"Nah. Only about half of it," joked Trip, returning the box to its usual place on his nightstand. The two men were in Tucker's quarters, having just seen _Casablanca_. As usual, Trip had cried at the movie. "You know my track record with Ingrid Bergman," he added in his own defense.

"I do. It's a good thing she's centuries dead, or I might become jealous of your feelings for her."

Trip laced his fingers into the beltloops on either side of Malcolm's waistband and pulled the smaller man close. "You got nothing to worry about on that front, darlin'," he purred in his lover's ear.

A shiver ran through Malcolm at the feel of Trip's hot breath on his neck. "I'm glad to hear it," Malcolm murmured in reply, and wrapped his arms about his partner. "I've had a lovely evening."

Trip pressed warm kisses against Malcolm's cheek. "It ain't over yet."

"Ah, more good news." Malcolm closed his eyes, enjoying the softness of the younger man's lips on his skin. "You said the other morning you had something special in mind," he said softly.

"Yep. I did," affirmed Trip. Reluctantly, he pulled away. Malcolm opened his eyes and looked at him, curious but patient. "I thought a…game might be fun. Something a little different."

"What sort of game?"

"Some…role-playing." At his lover's bemused expression, he added, "And I'm not talking the kind Travis and them get up to sometimes."

"I hope not," replied Reed teasingly.

"You check the door and the comm, and I'll get…what I got."

Without a word, Malcolm made certain the cabin door was locked and their comms had a Do Not Disturb order on them. When he'd done that, he looked up from the computer console to see Trip, a lascivious grin on his face, standing by the bed where an odd assortment of clothing and other items were laid out. Malcolm was intrigued. "What's this?"

"You can pick. Do you want to be Rick, Victor Laszlo, or Captain Renault?"

A smile as wicked as his lover's spread across Malcolm's face. He didn't bother to wonder where Trip had gotten the costumes. Tucker was an engineer; he knew how the ship's resequencers worked. "That all depends," he began, crossing the room so he was standing a bare handbreadth from Trip. "Who do you want to be?"

Tucker had his own ideas about the game, but he wanted to be certain that Malcolm got whatever he desired. "Sure you don't want first pick?" he asked.

Reed nodded, looking deeply into Trip's pale blue eyes. "I'm sure. Who do _you_ want to be?" he repeated.

"I thought I could be…Captain Renault."

"Ah. And I could be either the daring fugitive you wish to apprehend or the clever adversary you wish to best-and with whom you go strolling off into the night."

Trip wasn't sure if it was the close proximity of his partner-although they had yet to touch since he'd gotten out the costumes-or if it was their discussion of possibilities for the remainder of the evening's entertainment that had him so turned on. He guessed it was a combination of the two. Whatever the cause, he could feel his growing erection pressing against the seam of his pants. He wondered if Malcolm was in a similar state. Unfortunately the armory officer was too close for Trip to be able to glance down and see, but not quite close enough for him to feel. It was almost maddening.

Tucker restrained his desire to reach out a hand and find out if Reed was as aroused by the situation as he was. _Don't rush it,_ he ordered himself. _Wait and play the game. You'll find out soon enough._

"I think," said Malcolm, breaking into his lover's lustful line of thought, "I'll be Rick." He adopted an American accent, although he didn't go so far as to attempt to impersonate Humphrey Bogart. "Owner of _Rick's Café Américain_ -a hot spot for political intrigue and forbidden romance."

Trip grinned. "I hope you don't expect me to sound like I'm French. I want to seduce you, not make you laugh."

Malcolm returned his smile willingly, and answered in his own voice, "I like your accent just the way it is."

"Aw shucks," said the engineer, intentionally over-emphasizing his usual light twang.

Reed chuckled and leaned against the blond man, running his hands down Trip's strong back as he pulled him against his body. His chuckle deepened as he felt his partner's hardness press against his own. He planted a long, slow kiss on Tucker's waiting lips. When he finally released him, Malcolm looked again into bright blue eyes. "Shall we dress?" he asked sweetly, then added with mischief in his voice, "so that we can undress?"

"Absolutely!" agreed Trip with such vehemence that both men laughed out loud. He grabbed up the dark gendarme uniform. "I'll change in the lav," he suggested. "I want you to get the full effect, and…"

Malcolm finished the thought for him. "And if we both change in the same room, we'll never get that far."

"Uh-huh." He disappeared into the lav.

Reed examined the items on the bed. He quickly discarded the cream-colored suit that was obviously meant to be Victor Laszlo's, tossing it aside into one corner of the room. He smirked, thinking, _Trip will be proud, if he actually notices._ He quickly stripped out of his casual attire, including his civilian skivvies he'd donned that evening. He felt like going without; somehow it struck him as being more Bogart-like. He dressed quickly in the dark suit, dress shoes, and tan overcoat Trip had provided, then he folded his clothes and placed them neatly on the floor near the heaped suit. _I do have my limits when it comes to chaos,_ he thought.

Feeling something in the pocket of the overcoat, he reached in and pulled the items out. He was surprised to find a silver cigarette case and a Zippo lighter. _They can't be real cigarettes,_ he thought, opening the case and eyeing them curiously. Still, he had to admit the image of Rick Blaine wouldn't be complete without them. He tucked the case into the inner breast pocket of his blazer and the lighter into his pant pocket.

He picked up the last item on the bed-a tan fedora. Standing before the small mirror, he set it on his head at a rakish angle. He grinned at his reflection. Trip hadn't yet emerged, so he took advantage of the continued privacy to attempt a quick impersonation.

He eyed his reflection seductively, mimed raising a glass. "Here's lookin' at you, kid," he said in a reasonable impression of Bogart.

"Ah, Ricky," replied Trip, startling him. "You look quite dapper tonight." The French uniform fit him beautifully, showing off his broad shoulders to their best advantage. The dark color only heightened the blue of his eyes.

Malcolm blushed a bit at having been caught play-acting alone. But he sucked it up and went along with his lover's opening line. "You look pretty good yourself, Louis. Now that we've exchanged pleasantries, why don't you tell me why you called me down here."

Immediately Tucker picked up the cue. They were in Renault's- _his_ -office. "Please sit down," he said, gesturing to the desk chair.

"I'll stand."

A sly smile quirked the corner of Tucker's lips. "Very well." He took a seat on the edge of the desk, one foot resting lightly on the seat of the chair. "I'm disappointed in you, my friend," he said. "Spoiling my little romance with that darling Bulgarian couple the other night."

Reed smiled coyly. "I was right when I told the girl you were getting broad-minded. So it wasn't just her you were after, eh?"

"Of course not. Surely by now you know me better than that." Tucker reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out cigarette case nearly identical to the one Reed had found earlier. Malcolm tried to hide his surprise as Tucker took one out and tapped it on the closed case. He placed the cigarette between his lips, tucking the case away, and pulled out a lighter. He flipped it open expertly and lit the cigarette.

At Malcolm's inquisitive look, Trip broke character only momentarily to say, "Don't worry. There's nothing nasty in 'em like they had back in Bogey's day." Immediately back in the persona he'd adopted for the night, he snapped the lighter shut and returned it to his pocket.

"Good," was Malcolm's only reply. He noticed that despite his assurances Trip didn't actually inhale the smoke into his lungs.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable, Rick?" Trip pushed the chair out with his foot.

"You're implying you intend to keep me here a while."

"I hope so." Tucker's voice was laden with suggestion.

Malcolm gave him a small smile, acknowledging his tone. He undid the belt on his overcoat and slipped it off his shoulders. He tossed it negligently across the desk and sat down. He removed his fedora next, absently turning it in his hands as he remembered Rick doing in the film. "So…" He looked up at Tucker challengingly. "…what's this all about, Louis?"

"You already guessed it. You spoiled my fun."

"And now you want retribution. Is that it?"

"Something like that."

"I already let you win at craps. You drink for free at my saloon. What more do you want?"

Trip ignored the question and leaned back, reaching behind the computer monitor to retrieve a small bottle of bourbon and two low-ball glasses.

Malcolm cocked his head, intrigued but still in character. "You're certainly prepared for this interview."

"I've thought of everything," Trip replied, recalling words exchanged between them in a shower many months before. Reed couldn't fight back the very un-Bogart-like grin that spread across his face. Tucker pushed the bottle and glasses to where Malcolm could reach them. "Pour us a drink, Rick," he said. "You're the saloon-keeper, after all."

The dark-haired man set his hat aside and reached for the bottle, reading the label. "Good choice, but you remember what happened the last time you and I indulged in a bottle of bourbon together," he said, character mingling with reality briefly.

"I'm not likely to forget." Tucker smiled seductively. "It was a good time."

"Yes, it was." Reed opened the bottle and poured a measure into each glass. Setting the bottle aside, he picked up both glasses and passed one to Trip. The engineer stamped out his dwindling cigarette in the open bottle-cap, and took the drink with a smile. Having been caught once, Malcolm dared to risk it once more; he put on his best Bogart voice and said, "Here's lookin' at you, kid."

Trip winked at him and kicked back his bourbon in one swallow. Malcolm followed his lead, and both men inhaled deeply to calm the familiar burning sensation of liquor drunk too quickly.

Tucker spoke up first, still in the persona of Captain Renault. "I'm just a corrupt minor official," he began. "No one looks twice if I dally with a lady or two before sending them on their way." He fixed Reed with a scolding look. "But tongues would wag if I got up to too much fun with the lovely young men passing through Casablanca. I had a good chance with that Bulgarian couple, Ricky, and you helped them get away." He leaned forward, shadowing his seated partner. "I think you owe me an apology."

"You think so, eh?" Reed poured himself another drink. "Maybe I think you had it coming. Maybe I think I'm tired of watching you 'dally with a lady or two'."

"You _are_ a sentimentalist!" Trip exclaimed gleefully. "I knew it all along!" He laughed and poured another measure of bourbon for himself.

"You think I did it for that girl and her husband? You're dead wrong. I stick my neck out for no one, remember?"

Trip looked at him, playing coy. "I've heard that refrain before, my friend. I'm not buying it anymore."

"All right. Maybe I _am_ a sentimentalist." Reed sipped thoughtfully at his drink. Already he could feel the alcohol warming his system. He expected he'd be nicely relaxed by the end of the one he now nursed. "Maybe I think when two people care about each other, they shouldn't be kept apart."

"You sound as though you speak from experience. Is there something I should know? A lovely lady who broke your heart, perhaps?"

"That, too." Reed looked up at Tucker, still perched on the desk. He rose and stepped into him, right between the leg that supported him and the one bent and resting on the desk. "Or maybe I'm just the jealous type who doesn't like having to share you with every floozy who comes through this god-forsaken town." He tossed back the rest of his drink and slammed the glass down on the desk. He took Trip's head in both hands and pulled him into a heart-stopping kiss. When Malcolm released him, both men were short of breath. "How's that for your 'apology'?" he asked.

A slow smile spread across Trip's face, and he set his unfinished drink aside. "It's a start." Without warning, he grabbed Malcolm's shoulders and shoved him back into the waiting chair. He swung one long leg over the startled man and straddled him, returning the kiss with a searing passion that left them both aching for more.

"Ah, Louis, I can see why none of those women ever complained about your little romances," Malcolm said when Trip finally released him.

"The men had no complaints either," Tucker assured him lasciviously. They kissed again, and Malcolm ran his hands over the engineer's shoulders and back. His wandering fingers reached the younger man's hips, where they came across something cold and metallic.

"What's this?" he asked breaking the kiss to peek down at what he'd found hanging on Trip's belt. "Handcuffs?" He smirked up at his lover. "Toys?"

Completely himself for a brief moment, Trip said, "I figured they were props, but if you want they can be toys."

"We'll see, won't we? They might be useful." He pulled the cuffs from the belt and played with them as the two men kissed again.

Trip worked his way along Malcolm's jaw to his throat and then up to his ear. He sucked on the lobe just enough to get the moan he wanted to hear. He grinned to himself; that little trick worked every time, and he loved being able to do it to his lover. He shifted on Malcolm's lap a little, eliciting another low groan of pleasure-one he found himself echoing deep in his throat.

He forced himself to rise and take a single step back so Malcolm had room to stand, too. Trip's hand brushed the fedora that rested nearby, knocking it to the floor where it rolled just underneath the desk. Neither man noticed.

Malcolm stood. "Is it too cliché if I say I love a man in uniform?"

Trip shrugged. "How do you feel about a man _out_ of uniform?"

"Even better."

Giving Malcolm one more fiery kiss, Trip moved away to the middle of the cabin. Slowly, he undid the gunbelt he wore, slipping it off. Reed reached out a hand for it, and Tucker silently handed it over. Malcolm set it aside on the desk. As he did, he noticed the open bottle bourbon. Shooting his partner a sly glance, he poured himself another drink and leaned back against the desk.

"I'm ready to enjoy the show," he said lecherously.

Trip returned his carnal grin with one of his own. One by one, he undid the many buttons on his jacket, then slowly slipped it off and tossed it aside. Next, he knelt and undid the laces of his shoes. He removed socks and shoes together, and stood straight once more.

"Are you sure you don't want to help?"

"You seem to be handling it all right on your own, Louis. I can wait." It was almost a lie, but Malcolm could be patient when it was required; he knew what Trip had was worth waiting for, and he enjoyed watching him remove the layers of his costume. "Go on." One hand still toyed absently with the handcuffs he held.

Trip loosened his tie and pulled it off over his head, dropping it at his feet. He worked on his shirt buttons next. He tugged the shirttails from his waistband in order to reach the last few. Once open, he shrugged the shirt off and let it fall behind him. He was rewarded with slight shifting of position on Malcolm's part. Clearly he was aroused, but he was doing his damnedest not to let it show.

Malcolm took a sip of his bourbon, trying to distract himself just enough to keep control.

Trip's hands moved to his belt. He unbuckled it and unbuttoned the pants it held. He slowly unzipped them and slid them down over narrow hips and strong thighs. He stepped carefully out of the trousers and threw them away to fall in a heap. He started to reach for the waistband of his briefs, but Malcolm stopped him.

"That's enough."

Tucker was momentarily stunned. His erection was straining almost painfully against the constraints of his underwear. Surely Malcolm could see that from where he watched only a meter away, but he'd asked him to stop. "You're sure about that?" Trip asked, a bit nonplussed.

"I am." Once more, Reed tossed back the last of his drink and set the glass aside. He looked at Trip from the corner of one eye. "Drink?" he asked politely, continuing his saloon-keeper role.

"I'll pass this time. I'm more interested in that apology you owe me." Trip took a step toward Malcolm. "Perhaps, if you apologize well enough, I'll get you an exit visa so you can get out of Casablanca."

"Where would I go?" Reed asked matter-of-factly. He spun the handcuffs on one finger casually, letting them turn once or twice before catching them and spinning them again. "Beside, maybe if I apologize well enough you won't want me to leave."

He grabbed Trip, catching him completely off-guard, and tackled him back onto the bunk. He used his full weight to pin the larger man down.

"Wha-?"

Before Trip could get another word out, Malcolm had a cuff around one of his wrists and had looped the short chain connecting the cuffs around a support at the head of the bed.

"Malcolm, what're you-?"

But Malcolm cut him off. "I'm going to apologize, _Louis_ ," he explained. He caught Trip's free hand and secured the other cuff around it. Then he sat up, shifting his weight to his knees at either side of Tucker's hips.

Gradually, comprehension spread across the engineer's mobile features. It was quickly followed by a sensual smile. He bucked his hips suddenly, pressing his straining cock against his partner's groin. But Malcolm was too quick for him. He was up and off the engineer in a flash.

"Not so fast," he chided. He removed the suit jacket he wore and slowly crossed the room to hang it on the back of the chair.

Trip couldn't help watching Malcolm's tight ass in his tailored pants as he walked away. His eyes narrowed as he realized something. "You're going commando!" he exclaimed appreciatively. "Who would've thought it?"

Malcolm turned to face him, and his lack of underwear was made even more obvious by the hardness that held his trousers out from his groin. "It's liberating, if you'll pardon the war-time pun," he said. He pulled at his tie until it came loose. He regarded it thoughtfully, then looked to his lover. Without a word, he approached the bunk, staying away from Trip's unbound legs; he wasn't ready to be caught by those muscular limbs quite yet. Gently, he threaded the necktie around first one half of the handcuffs, then the other, padding the metal.

"That should be more comfortable," he told his bound lover.

"It is. Thanks. Now maybe you could-" He shifted his hips again hopefully.

"Ah, ah. Not yet. I want to make sure you get every bit of apology you feel you have coming."

"Coming is gonna be right pretty damn soon-"

Malcolm put a finger on Trip's lips, stilling him. "Shh. Enjoy the show."

Reed moved a few steps away so he was far enough that Trip would be able to see all of him without having to move his head. He slipped off his shoes and socks and lobbed them in the general direction of the dresser. Tucker grinned. Malcolm unbuckled his belt and pulled out his shirt. He only undid enough buttons to be able to pull it over his head, which he did, throwing it away carelessly.

He moved forward again, pulling off his belt and dropping it as he walked. He leaned over Trip and kissed him almost chastely as he unfastened his trousers. Letting the pants fall and stepping from them, he kissed Trip on the lips again, then turned his attention lower. He ran a hand through his lover's chest hair, weaving his fingers into it and tugging just a bit as his tongue found Tucker's nipple and licked it.

The blond man squirmed under his touch. Malcolm's tongue toyed with the first nipple, then moved to the other. He went back and forth until both were wet with his saliva. He blew gently across Tucker's chest, rippling the fine hairs and causing his nipples to harden in the sudden chill.

"Oh god, Malcolm!" Trip moaned.

Reed tugged a little harder on Tucker's chest hair. "Rick," he reminded him in a whisper.

"Whatever you say," agreed the younger man willingly. "Rick."

Malcolm released his hold and slid his palm down Trip's strong abs. He stopped when he reached the waistband of his briefs. He allowed his fingers to slip under the tight elastic just enough to brush the tip of his lover's hard penis. He found a touch of wetness there, and wiped his finger over it. Then he removed his hand and licked the finger.

Tucker thought he'd lose it right then and there, as Malcolm slid his finger suggestively from between his lips.

"Sweet," Malcolm said with a smile. He lowered his hand again and began massaging his partner through the thin fabric. At the same time, his other hand took hold of his own cock and began to stroke it, too.

Trip had just enough rational control to remember his lessons. "God, Rick. I want you. Please."

Malcolm smiled wider. "Good," he said. "You should." He let go of his lover's erection, but held onto his own, stroking harder. _Hang on, Malcolm,_ he told himself. _Not yet._ He released the grip on his aching penis reluctantly, then he sat on the edge of the bunk. He leaned over and pressed a string of kisses along Trip's belly. The engineer shuddered, hips straining to get under his warm mouth, but Malcolm wouldn't let him. He lounged sideways across Trip's squirming thighs, forcing them to still, then leaned over again, his mouth hovering just above Tucker's constrained erection. Malcolm let out a long hot breath, warming the blue fabric and dampening it every so slightly.

Trip groaned at the delicious torment and tried to wriggle free. This time, Malcolm didn't stop him. Sitting up, he took a firm hold of Trip's briefs. He stretched the elastic enough to clear Tucker's penis. This time when the younger man raised his hips, Malcolm slid the underwear past them and drew them down his legs. He flung them over one shoulder, not bothering to watch where they fell.

The engineer lay bound and naked on the bed. Drops of pre-ejaculate sparkled on the tip of his stiff cock, and Malcolm longed to taste it again. He knelt on the bed, straddling his lover and facing his waiting erection. He took it in one hand and leaned over. He ran his tongue over the tip, tasting the sweetness and the salt of his lover's juices. Both men sighed with pleasure. Malcolm let his tongue roam a little more before taking Trip into his mouth. He sucked gently, knowing he was close and not wanting to bring him to climax quite yet.

"Please," he heard Trip moan pleadingly.

Malcolm looked back at him over one shoulder. "What is it, kid?" he asked in false innocence.

Trip met his blazing blue gaze with his own. "Fuck me," he entreated. "Fuck me as if it were the last time."

A carnal grin spread across Reed's face. He didn't think even Ingrid Bergman could pull off that iteration of the line, but coming from Tucker's mouth, it set the older man on fire. "Whatever you say, Louis." He climbed off the supine engineer and opened the nightstand drawer. He found the item he was looking for and returned to his former position, but this time he faced his lover.

He bent down and kissed Trip hungrily, his tongue caressing the inside of the younger man's mouth. He released his lover and moved down his chest to his belly to his cock. Malcolm used one hand to hold it while he gave it another brief suck. Tucker shivered underneath him, but held onto his control. Reed sat back and opened the tube he still held in one hand. He drizzled lubricant over his fingers, the smell of peppermint rising to his nostrils. "Ah! I do love this particular lube," he said like a connoisseur judging fine wines.

"Uh-huh," agreed Trip, only half aware of his words. He bent his knees, pulling his feet up so they were close to his ass. "Just make good use of it," he added, and spread himself as wide as he could.

Malcolm smiled at the sight of his lover, opening himself, offering himself to him. He slicked up his penis with the peppermint lube then delicately ran one finger over the tight ring of muscle between Trip's firm buttocks. Immediately it relaxed, knowing what pleasure was in store. Malcolm slipped two fingers in just up to the first knuckle and turned them around gently, getting a bit of the lube inside the rim.

Trip groaned with pent up desire.

"Shh," Malcolm hushed him tenderly. "I'm right here." He removed his fingers and ran his hand once more over his own erection. Then slowly, carefully, he slid his cock into his ready and waiting lover. Trip groaned again, but this time Malcolm didn't shush him. Instead, he just lay on top of him and pressed kisses against his chest. His hands kneaded Trip's strong biceps where they were anchored over his head. Then he moved his hands, taking some of his weight on them and off of his lover as he drove his hips against him.

Tucker responded instinctively, tilting his pelvis so Malcolm could get deeper, his shaft buried hotly inside the engineer. "Oh god, that's it," he moaned as Reed found the spot deep within him that put him on the brink.

Malcolm pulled out a little and thrust back in, evoking another exclamation and a gasp from his partner. He continued to move in and out, the tight pressure of Trip's ass and the tingle of the lube drawing him closer and closer to climax. He could feel Trip's erection pressing against his stomach with every drive, knew the engineer was close, too. He pulled out nearly completely and plunged back in.

Trip moaned loudly as he came, semen flowing out and slicking their skin. Malcolm reached orgasm with Tucker's ardent moaning, though he himself made little sound. He continued to move inside Trip until the waves of passion slowed and he could feel himself softening, just as Trip was against his belly.

Both men breathed heavily, not moving from where they lay until their hearts slowed very gradually to a normal pace. Malcolm's head rested on Trip's chest, and he could hear his heartbeat beneath his ear. He chuckled softly and said, "Is that cannon fire, or is it your heart pounding?"

Trip laughed gently. "A minute ago, I'd've told you it was fireworks," he replied. He felt Malcolm smile. They lay silent a little longer until Trip finally spoke up again. "Can you undo me now? I want to put my arms around you."

Malcolm rose up on his hands and pushed back from his lover, drawing his penis from within him at last. Tucker was sorry to feel the sensation go, but it was necessary, especially if he was going to get his hands free. He shivered a little at the loss of Malcolm's warm body on his own. "You make a good blanket," he told his lover.

"Thank you." Reed glanced at his lover's abdomen then at his own, noticing the whiteness drying on their skin. "Sticky," he declared.

Tucker laughed. "Hot sex is always messy," he teased. "That's part of the fun."

Reed nodded. "I can't argue with that. Where are the keys to the cuffs?"

"In my jacket pocket." Malcolm rose and paused with one hand on the bunk. "You okay?" Trip asked, concerned.

"Just a bit of a headrush," the dark-haired man replied.

Trip's concern was replaced by humor. "That can happen when your blood's busy somewhere other than your brain for a while," he wisecracked.

"Yes," replied Malcolm slyly. "I expect you're personally very familiar with that phenomenon."

"All for a good cause, darlin'. All for a good cause."

Malcolm laughed. "Another truth I cannot dispute." He looked around the cabin until he spotted the gendarme's jacket Trip had shed earlier. "Which pocket?"

"Left."

He reached in and felt around. "They're not here."

Tucker felt a moment of panic. If the keys weren't there, it would take a plasma torch to cut through his bonds. "Try the other side," he suggested anxiously.

Reed checked the right pocket and pulled out a small ring with two keys on it. "I found them." He held them up, jingling them against one another. He approached the bunk and once more straddled his lover, dangling the keys tauntingly over his nose.

"Malcolm…"

"Yes?"

"Are you gonna undo me?"

"Hmm… Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" echoed the astonished engineer. "Malcolm-"

But Malcolm grinned at him. "I'm teasing you, sweetheart." He kissed him quickly, then sat up on his knees and reached for the handcuffs, coincidentally allowing his genitals to hang over Trip's face just beyond his reach.

"You are mean," Tucker said eyeing the delectable treat mere centimeters away.

One cuff fell away to be followed shortly by the other. With a groan almost akin to those he'd emitted earlier, Tucker lowered his arms. Blood flowed back into them, causing them to tingle slightly. Malcolm moved back and sat lightly on Trip's abdomen so the engineer had room to bring his arms in front of him and massage his wrists.

"It didn't hurt you, did it?" inquired Reed apprehensively.

"Nah. But next time we play this little game, I'm making sure the handcuffs are better padded."

Malcolm paused, taking in his words. "Next time?"

"Next time."

Reed could feel the first stirrings of arousal in his gut once more. He smiled. "Ah, but this time isn't over yet." He pinned his lover's shoulders against the bed and kissed him soundly, his tongue forcing its way between lips and teeth.

Trip didn't fight back; he could barely move his arms and, besides, he quite enjoyed the position he was in.

Eventually, they had to come up for air. When they did, Tucker found a sudden surge of strength and tossed his lover off and onto his back. Immediately, their positions were reversed.

"You're right," he said with a roguish grin. "It ain't over yet."

*****

 

**Author's Note:**

> *It's been so long, even I haven't a clue what I'm talking about there.


End file.
